


Underneath the Surface

by myrthrilmercury



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Chekhov's Gun, Fishing, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Pining, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrthrilmercury/pseuds/myrthrilmercury
Summary: It began as an offseason fishing trip and became so much more.





	Underneath the Surface

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [sleeperservice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/pseuds/sleeperservice) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> Done for the Pucking Rare challenge.
> 
> For those unfamiliar with Norse mythology or the Marvel Cinematic Universe: the Jörmungandr is a giant sea serpent circling the earth and grasping its own tail. Should it ever release its own tail, Ragnarok will begin.

Carl Hagelin was a man of many talents.

He could skate at incredible speeds, annoy opposing teams, and score when his team needed it most.

But he couldn’t catch a fish if his life depended on it.

Sure, he knew how to use bait and tackle, even if he always felt the need to apologize to any live bait before impaling it on the hook. But he never caught anything besides garbage.

So when Mats Zuccarello called him and asked if he wanted to spend two weeks fishing at Lake Åsunden, of course he said yes.

Mats could have asked him to swim in shark-infested waters or jump into an active volcano and he still would have said yes.

Because he could never say no to Mats, regardless of whatever was asked of him.

It was the least he could do.

Carl would do anything for Mats, even if Mats would never see him as anything more than a friend.

Though that didn’t change the fact that he was absolutely godawful at fishing. Mats had reeled in more than enough perch for dinner, so they had lunch for the following day. Meanwhile, all Carl caught was a plastic six-ring can holder and a set of fish bones.

At least Carl had the “sit in a cabin and drink beer” part of the trip down pat. They’d been shooting the shit for the past hour when Carl’s mind began to wander.

Carl had known for a while that Mats was an avid fisherman. Mats had told him about some of his offseason fishing trips in the past. Back then, Carl had admitted he was terrible at it.

Mats had to remember that. The guy had a photographic memory, one of the many traits that Carl admired.

So why _had_ Mats invited him along? 

Mats smiled; gazing into Carl’s eyes during his reply. “I figured I could teach you to fish.”

“Really? That’s it?” Carl inquired skeptically.

“Well, there’s a legend of a King Fish in this lake, and I wanted you here while I tried to catch it. Some say it’s actually the Jörmungandr.”

Carl shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I know. It would be really cool it were true, though.”

“No, it wouldn’t. We’d all be dead.” 

“True. Tell you what, I’m calling it a night. How about tomorrow morning I start teaching you to fish?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carl replied with a nod. 

Mats grinned ear-to-ear as he stood out of his chair and approached his bedroom door. “Okay, we’ll have breakfast and then set out. Night, Carl.”

Carl swallowed nervously. _His name._ This was the first time Mats had ever called him by _his given name._ “Night, Mats.”

Mats’ grin blossomed into a beatific smile as he turned one last time to smile at Carl before retreating to his bedroom for the night.

It was late enough that Carl needed to get to bed as well. He began picking up all the beer bottles and tossing them into a paper bag. He could take it to the community recycling bin sometime tomorrow.

Carl paused as he noticed something hanging on one of the chairs in the dining room. He put down the bag and headed over for a closer look.

No wonder the object looked familiar. It was the windbreaker he gave to Mats during the first year they played together.

The navy blue windbreaker had been Carl’s favorite, and he wore it all the time during the spring.

But Mats arrived at practice one stormy April day soaked to the bone. He had missed his connecting train due to a delay at the last station, and had to run the remainder of the way to Madison Square Garden in the torrential rains.

Carl still needed his umbrella, but he offered his windbreaker to Mats to keep him dry that day; and told him to keep it. 

Until then, Carl never knew that Mats still wore it. Perhaps someday he’d say something to Mats…if he felt brave enough.

That wasn’t happening any time soon. Carl abandoned the bag and headed to his own bedroom.

***

“Goddammit!” For the third time, whatever had been nibbling at Carl’s line had absconded with the bait.

“Did you snap the rod tip back?” 

“I’ve been doing that, but…” Carl’s voice trailed off as he realized Mats was staring at him intently. “What?”

“Can you lift up your rod a bit? Show me your hands.” Mats leaned over and craned his neck, continuing to study Carl as he complied. Wordlessly, he scooted right up against Carl, leaning into his right side as he reached down and pried Carl’s fingers away from the reel seat.

Carl held his breath as Mats sandwiched his fingers between his own, guiding and pressing Carl’s thumb over the reel, then sliding Carl’s other fingers along the rod, emphatically pressing down on the middle and ring fingers.

“See where the trigger is now?” Mats pressed his palm against the back of Carl’s hand, leaving it there as Carl looked closer and discovered that Mats had adjusted his middle and ring fingers so that the trigger was right between them. “Leave your hand there for a minute. Lemme get the bait.”

As Mats turned away and reached for the tackle box, Carl realized that Mats was doing the work for him so that he could get used to the new grip, which did feel incredibly foreign. In almost no time at all, Mats had a new shiner on Carl’s hook.

Mats scooted away a couple of centimeters, but remained close. “Okay, try now.” He grimaced once Carl cast the rod.

“Uh…” The look on Mats’ face reminded Carl of Du Nilsson’s death glare when he caught him red-handed looking over at Kirsten Claesson’s paper during a maths test in primary school. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No wonder you’re not getting any distance. Bring that back in.” Once Carl had reeled the line back in, Mats leaned back over, placing his hands on Carl’s shoulders. “Lift your arms up again.” 

Carl continued moving as he raised his arms over his shoulders, but came to an abrupt halt when he felt Mats squeeze with both hands.

“Too high. You’re killing the angle when you put your arms up like that.” Mats slid his hands down Carl’s arms, stopping halfway above the elbow. “Raise them shoulder length and no higher. You want a straight line away from you. You’re not trying to take a shot. Wrong sport.”

Carl chuckled awkwardly, hoping Mats didn’t notice how flustered the one-on-one instruction was making him. 

Then again, if Mats did, he wasn’t showing it. He always had been difficult to read.

From day one, Mats had been like Lake Åsunden: calm on the surface, betraying no indications of what was going on below the depths. 

“Okay, I’m gonna let go. Put your arms down and try it again.”

Carl raised his arms, scolding himself when he felt his arms instinctively try to rise above his shoulders. That was going to be a tough habit to break. 

But when he cast the line straight across the water, it traveled farther than it ever had when he had previously been fishing.

“That’s it!” For a brief instance, Carl swore he could see a glimmer in Mats’ eyes as Mats beamed proudly. It was probably just his imagination. 

Mats retrieved the tackle box and dug for a new lure. Carl stared silently at his line on the water, filtering out the sounds of Mats rummaging around behind him. 

Several long minutes passed in complete silence, which was finally interrupted by a drag on Carl’s line. He started pulling the rod towards his chest, but stopped when he remembered Mats’ instructions and pointed it towards the water as he maniacally twisted the reel.

“Pull and point!” Mats, who still had his own line in the water, couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Like you’ve seen me do. Pull the rod back towards you, then point it again. Keep reeling it in.” 

Reeling in a catch was more difficult than Carl had expected, but then again, this had the first time he had been able to hook a fish without it stealing his bait.

Lifting the rod out of the water and seeing the pike on the hook was like winning the Cup.

“YOU GOT ONE!” Mats balanced precariously on one leg as he leaned over to hug Carl with one arm while keeping the opposite extended so he could continue holding his own rod. The only thing keeping him upright was Carl’s arm around his waist as they alternated between hollering at the top of their lungs and bursts of laughter.

“Okay, now that we’ve scared all the fish…” Carl released Mats and began detaching the still-defiant pike from his hook. “I don’t think anyone’s catching anything for the next few hours.”

Mats seized the rod with both hands, scrambling to adjust his grip as the tip of the rod began to bend towards the water. “Or maybe they are.”

By the time Carl had put his catch in the cooler and looked up to see what was going on, he began to worry. Mats always reeled in fish much faster than this, and there was now a deep bend in the rod. If Mats didn’t get his catch in soon, the rod would break. 

Mats’ sudden unsteadiness and the sudden trembling of his arms were surefire signs of fatigue. This wasn’t just any normal fish on the line. 

“Bit of help here?” Mats managed through gritted teeth as the fish began pulling him towards the edge of the boat. 

Carl sprang to action and stood right behind Mats; allowing Mats to lean against him as he aligned his hands between Mats’ on the rod and began pulling. With Carl’s help, the line was reeling in quicker now, and the fish was getting closer and closer—

Until it took a sharp turn away from the boat and snapped the line, taking Mats down with it. Before Carl had time to react, Mats fell headfirst into the side of the boat before slamming down with a resounding thud. Groaning in pain, Mats instinctively clutched his head in his hands before immediately recoiling and discovering the blood all over his left hand. 

The push had pulled Mats at just the right angle to send him headfirst into a row of cleats, which had cut the left side of his head open. Carl couldn’t see the cut through Mats’ hair, but it was bleeding profusely.

_“MATS!”_ Less than a second later, Carl pulled his shirt off and crumpled it into a disheveled wad before immediately kneeling next to Mats and pressing the shirt against the area where he saw blood. He held the shirt in place with one hand as he grabbed Mats’ left hand with the other, then placed it on the shirt. “Keep pressure on that.” With that, he sprung up and began raising the anchor.

“What are you doing?” Mats asked weakly.

“Taking you to the infirmary.” Carl didn’t even look down at what he was doing as he completed the startup sequence and pulled on the rip cord. 

Mats slumped against the hull, whimpering as Carl grabbed the steering wheel and slammed on the gas, completely disregarding the no-wake regulation as he headed for the shore. 

***

Carl had seen it all before. He’d been there when the medical staff worked on a liney on the bench and seen hit that sent players from either team to the hospital.

But he’d never been as scared as he was for Mats. 

Initially, the receptionist and staff refused to let Carl into the exam room; explaining that only family members or significant others were allowed in. They relented once Carl begged through tears and between sobs for them to let him see Mats.

By the time Carl sat down in the exam room, the doctor had cleaned the head wound and was applying stitches. Carl watched in anxious silence, figuring he shouldn’t break the doctor’s concentration. 

When the doctor had finished and was preparing the rest of his equipment, Carl took the opportunity to ask about Mats.

“He needed five stitches,” the doctor replied. “I had to give him some scalp anesthesia, so he’ll be out of it for a while. He doesn’t appear to have any signs of a concussion, but keep an eye on him over the next two days. Just let him rest.”

“I will.” Carl nodded. “So, no waking him up every two hours then?”

The doctor shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. He can have solid food, but make sure you’re with him in case he chokes. If two days pass, he’ll be just fine.”

“Thank God…” Carl squeezed his eyes shut as tears of relief streamed down his face. 

“I’ll help you get him onto the boat. Take him right back to your cabin and have him rest.”

***

Carl slept next to Mats that night; occasionally waking up and watching Mats for any signs of distress. There were none, but sometimes Mats would wake up and ask for a glass of water, which Carl quickly provided. 

It was impossible to get any more sleep. Carl was already out of bed at 6 AM, rummaging through the kitchen for breakfast. There was pancake mix in the cupboard and a carton of eggs in the fridge. Those would work for now, but if they were going to be there another week, they really needed to go grocery shopping.

There were two plates of buttermilk pancakes and scrambled eggs on the dining room table when Mats came in, looking none the worse for wear save for the blood-stained hair on the left side of his head.

“I was hoping you’d get up soon. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Mats replied.

Carl smiled. “Good. I’d hoped you would be.”

Mats sat down in front of one of the plates. “I think I can take a shower now, but I might need some help. I’ll let you know.”

Carl felt his face flush and his heart beat faster. “That’s fine.” He sat down in front of the other plate and began cutting into his pancakes. “But I want you to rest today, okay?”

“I will, but what about you?” Mats shoveled a forkful of the scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I’m gonna catch that fucking fish if it kills me.”

***

Carl had vowed to catch the monster in the lake that had hurt Mats, but it was not to be. There were hardly any bites on his line, and the three fish he did catch were all under the minimum size requirement and had to be thrown back.

It was early evening when Carl gave up and decided to head back to shore. Fishing alone had been awfully boring, and somehow disquieting. It was unsettling to know that a fish like that was lurking underneath the water’s surface. 

With nothing to show for his efforts, Carl was forced to go grocery shopping to pick up ingredients for dinner. While he was at least getting the necessary chore out of the way, it wasn’t much consolation.

Mats didn’t mind at all. He was quick to point out that Carl had caught three fish (albeit below the minimum size limit), whereas he previously caught none at all. It was also his idea to cook kebabs over the campfire for dinner, which Carl found surprisingly fun. Not only could they eat in front of the campfire, there were also no dishes to scrub afterwards.

Other than a headache that had since gone away after taking ibuprofen, Mats seemed to be perfectly fine, much to Carl’s immense relief. His hair was also noticeably cleaner; indicating he was able to take a shower by himself. True, it was nothing Carl hadn’t seen before, but the fact that they were both alone and he had _feelings,_ well…

Since Mats didn’t appear to need any babysitting, Carl figured it was okay to chill in the sauna behind the cabin for a bit. He removed his bathrobe, stepped in, and zoned out.

After about an hour of emptying his brain, Carl stepped out and retrieved his bathrobe. As he mindlessly surveyed his surroundings, he was surprised to hear the campfire was still burning in front of the cabin.

Carl slid his feet into his sandals and walked around the side of the cabin to investigate. Had Mats forgotten to extinguish the campfire? The last thing they needed was for the fire to spread.

He soon discovered that not only was Mats still sitting in front of the campfire, but he was now wearing Carl’s navy blue windbreaker.

Carl couldn’t help but smile as he made his way over to the campfire and sat down next to Mats, who was clearly deep in thought. “I’m surprised you still have that.” 

Mats made a small startled noise as he slowly turned towards Carl, staring with his mouth agape. For the first time, Carl was able to see a twinge of emotion ripple across Mats’ eyes. “You…you remembered?”

“It still looks good on you. Better than it did on me, honestly.”

“I…” Mats paused as he glanced downwards, trying and failing to complete his initial thought. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d forgotten about it, because I…” Mats fell silent after his voice broke on the last three syllables.

“You what?” Carl stared intently at Mats, trying to divine any other clues from Mats’ expression.

“I really hoped you would remember.”

“So you…” Carl began putting the pieces together, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mats had brought that specific windbreaker on purpose. “You brought that along for a reason?”

Mats nodded resolutely. “When you gave that to me…” Mats paused and grazed the edges of his teeth together as he gazed into Carl’s eyes, mustering the courage to speak the truth. “I think that’s when I began falling in love with you.”

Carl gasped as his mouth fell open. How could he have never known? “Why…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were always with someone else.” Mats turned his head away as he crossed his hands in his lap. “I wasn’t about to steal any of your boyfriends. I mean—”

“Mats, listen to me.” Carl grabbed one of Mats’ hands, holding it in both of his as he leaned forward until he was inches from Mats’ face. “I never would have been messing around with any of those guys if I knew how you felt.”

Mats turned his head slowly to face Carl, eyes wide in astonishment. “You…didn’t _know?”_

“I didn’t think you saw me that way.” Carl averted his gaze for a moment to quash the butterflies before speaking again. “The way I see you.”

Mats remained frozen in place; eyes brimming with hope yet too timid to speak or act any further. Carl gingerly tested the waters as he moved closer and pulled Mats into a soft embrace. There was no response save wide, longing eyes and a rapid heartbeat that matched Carl’s own.

The fantasy had replayed in Carl’s head so many times in so many different ways, but for the first time, he wouldn’t come crashing back down to Earth left with nothing but melancholy longing.

This was real.

Everything Carl had ever wanted was pressed against him, cradled in his arms.

It was unclear which one of them leaned in first, but it didn’t matter; not when Carl was finally kissing Mats.

Each kiss faded into the next as they both dove in for more, with Mats wrapping his arms around Carl’s waist until he suddenly grunted and pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” Carl inquired as he released Mats.

Mats ran his hands up and down his face. “Something’s biting me.” He smacked his left cheek with his right hand.

As if on cue, Carl felt something crawl across his face and quickly batted it away.

Apparently the mosquitoes had decided they wanted in on the action.

“I think we’d better take this inside,” Carl muttered as he swatted the air in front of his face while Mats scratched at his neck.

Mats quickly glanced at the campfire. “Uh…”

Carl immediately knew what Mats was talking about. “I’ll get it. You get inside.” 

Even with a bucket of water and a shovel, putting out the campfire was still quite awkward in a bathrobe and slippers. Carl would definitely be washing those later.

Carl slammed the door behind him, just in time to avoid being bitten once more. He headed into his bedroom and deposited the bathrobe and slippers into the wicker hamper before realizing that Mats hadn’t been in the kitchen or the living room. 

Upon reentering the hallway, it soon became clear that Mats wasn’t in the bathroom, either. There was only one place left to look. 

Even with everything that had just happened, Carl couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nerves as he opened the door to Mats’ bedroom. Apparently tonight was the night all his dreams were coming true.

Mats was naked under the covers and lying on one side, propped up on one elbow. “You said you wanted to finish this inside, right?”

Carl couldn’t help but chuckle as he beamed widely. “Well, yes…but are you sure it’s okay?”

“There’s a naked man telling you to get into bed with him. What do you think the answer is?”

Now Carl was cracking up, despite trying to ask a serious question. “I mean, your head…”

“I’m fine. I’ve felt better since this morning. Look, if I wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

The laughter vanished as Carl strode over to the bed and slipped under the covers. He immediately reached for Mats, thrilling in the sensation of skin against skin as they drove their mouths together once more.

The kisses became longer and more passionate, now including tongues and the occasional graze of teeth against lips as their hands wandered up and down one another’s bodies, taking in everything they could, never wanting to let go. 

Mats slid down a bit to compensate for the height difference before wrapping one leg around Carl’s waist and rolling his hips forward, triggering a moan from Carl as their cocks slid together.

Carl lifted one hand above the sheets and held it in midair. “Give me your hand.” 

Mats immediately clasped his hand against Carl’s. Carl curled his fingers around it, pausing just to touch before moving their hands back underneath the sheets. He gently guided Mats’ hand, adjusting it so it partially encircled their cocks before moving his own hand to the other side, completing the ring.

Their hands soon slicked with precome as they began to stroke, with Carl slowing his pace a bit to try and match Mats, to not go any faster or harder than Mats wanted. It was becoming a taller order once Mats started bucking into their hands, panting and moaning between impassioned, keening pleas: _right there, don’t stop, just like that, God, yes, Carl, please._

Once Mats began erupting onto their hands, Carl no longer needed to hold himself back. He tightened his grip and bucked his hips wildly, stroking roughly until his own orgasm tore through him.

Now it was Carl who was disjointed as he came down, burying his head in the crook of Mats’ neck as he pulled them tighter together. Mats pressed one hand firmly against Carl’s back and lifted the other above the sheets before finding Carl’s hair, threading it gently between his fingers.

When Carl finally caught his breath, he looked up and gazed straight into Mats’ eyes. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Mats took a heavy breath as he rested his head against Carl’s chest. “I love you.”

“Tell me the truth.” Carl gave Mats a bemused look. “Why did you really invite me along on this trip when you knew I couldn’t fish worth shit?”

“You can now,” Mats replied with a delighted smirk. “I was hoping I’d have the nerve to tell you how I felt if it was just the two of us. Though I guess I needed your help.”

“Well, I needed your help with both of those things.” Carl moved one hand and ran his fingers through Mats’ hair as he spoke again. “But I came because you asked?”

“You did?” Mats lifted his head slightly as he turned it to face Carl. “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Look, you don’t have to ever be afraid of anything with me, okay?” Carl brushed the hair away from Mats’ face. “I don’t care what you need or where you are. I’ll come running from the other side of the world if you call for me.”

Mats smiled contentedly as he tilted his head forward, closing the remaining distance between them.


End file.
